


rivers flow to the sea

by sleepverses



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: M/M, classic quarantine fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-16
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24753919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepverses/pseuds/sleepverses
Summary: The spring was slow and quiet, there was a cut on the inner corner of his lip that kept breaking open, and Zuko was far too old to have a crush so ill-fated.
Relationships: Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 125





	rivers flow to the sea

The spring was slow and quiet, there was a cut on the inner corner of his lip that kept breaking open, and Zuko was far too old to have a crush so ill-fated. 

The injury and the crush were both the result of a tiny mishap at the hole-in-the-wall dojo off the corner of Omashu and Gaoling. That part wasn’t all that surprising, as the Jasmine Dojo, owned by Zuko’s uncle Iroh, was where he spent most evenings. Really, it was a story best told in three parts: one) a brief distraction in the clanging of the tinny wind chimes at the front door, two) Zuko glancing up from the mat [effectively breaking rule #3 of the Jasmine Dojo: keep your eyes on your opponent], meeting the interested gaze of a tall, broad, copper skinned man, and three) an ill-timed high kick from one of his more eager students that Zuko, quite frankly, did not see coming. 

“Christ!” 

“Sensei!”

Zuko ran his tongue over bloody teeth, wincing as he stretched the thin gash across the thin, reddened skin of his bottom lip. His students, largely excitable preteens, circled around him, crowing in concern, and he dismissed them early for the day, waving them off, and insisting he was fine. And he was. Injuries were common in a dojo; handsome strangers less so. 

The last of his students filtered out, and the stranger in question now stood in front of him. Zuko could read clearly the panic etched across his face, giving every inch of him away; in the creased forehead, in the sharp, wide-eyed gaze, even in the high cheekbones and plush lips pulled into a grimace. 

“I am so sorry,” the man said in a rush, and Zuko’s traitorous heart did not skip a beat at the raspy baritone bleeding out of his throat, “I can’t believe you just got kicked in the face.”

“It’s fine,” he said hastily, but the man reached over, and firmly caught Zuko’s chin between his thumb and forefinger, inspecting the throbbing wound closer. His face was very, very close, and Zuko felt his blood pressure begin to climb. He fought to keep his pale skin from flushing. 

“Um,” he wheezed. “Can I help you with something?”

The man paused in his inspection. “What?” 

“Was there a reason you came in?” Zuko pressed, raising his brow. 

“Oh!” he said. “Yeah, I wanted to introduce myself. Name’s Sokka. My sister and I opened the bookstore and coffee bar two doors down.” Without tearing his eyes away from Zuko’s mouth, the man - Sokka - gestured vaguely outside and down the lantern lit street with his free hand. The one that did not still have a firm grasp on Zuko’s face. “Did you have braces?”

“I’m...Zuko, and uh, yeah. I did?” A bewildering question, fit for a bewildering moment.

“Yeah, you have great teeth,” the man - Sokka - continued. “You wear your retainer?” 

“When I remember,” Zuko replied bemusedly. And then, not because he cared really either way, but it seemed impolite not to ask, and besides the man - Sokka - had really nice teeth too, and Uncle was always trying to instil better manners in him, anyway -

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Wear braces,” Zuko said, feeling fainter by the second.

“Nah, I was one of the lucky ones. Katara wore them, though, so I get the struggle,” the man - Sokka - said. 

“Uh huh,” Zuko said awkwardly. 

They lapsed into a muted silence. The man - Sokka - caught his gaze, and quirked his mouth and Zuko tried to do the same, hissing when his cut lip seared. The man - Sokka, Sokka, Sokka, his internal feed chanted - frowned then, thumbing at Zuko’s swollen lip, and Zuko’s breath faltered. 

Sokka tilted his head and sighed. “Katara’s gonna be so pissed. I was supposed to make friends with the neighbours, not get them beat up by preteens.”

Zuko bristled. “It’s your fault I got kicked in the face. That doesn’t usually happen.” 

“I bet,” Sokka agreed. “So you’re gonna have to let me make it up to you. Come by the bookstore, and I’ve got you on a book of your choice and a coffee on the house. What do you think, Sensei?”

Zuko was going to hell. 

“Don’t call me sensei,” Zuko said immediately. “And, really, it’s fine.”

Sokka raised his brow, and his hot broad hand, still attached very much to Zuko’s bruised, red face shifted, and Zuko was only so strong. 

“So I just walk in?”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feel like it's obvious this was very hastily written, and it was, but if folks are interested, i may just continue this since i have some bits i didn't include. i really enjoy reading comments and seeing what resonated with you and what didn't. hope you and yours are well xo


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